


Hot Apple Cider

by HQK



Series: Country Roads Take Me Home [1]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Autumn 30 Day Challenge, F/M, Fall just makes me go feral, First Kiss, I Don't Even Know, Mutual Pining, Reader-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but like in a soft way, so have clyde and some bonfires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQK/pseuds/HQK
Summary: You and Clyde have been pining after each other for so long, you finally take things into your own hands. It's a cold fall night, but you can't be cold in Clyde's arms.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Series: Country Roads Take Me Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938049
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Hot Apple Cider

He’d been shooting you glances all evening. 

Well, to be more specific, he’d been shooting you glances every evening for the past few months. Ever since you came back to town, gave up your old life for something simpler. The backwoods of West Virginia felt familiar in a way nothing else ever had.

Except for maybe Clyde Logan. 

He filled your chest with some sort of warm flannel in a snowstorm type heat that you’d never felt before. Made you realize just how cold the people you used to surround yourself with were. His voice was more satisfying than the sound of leaves crunching under boots heels, and his eyes looked so pretty reflecting the crackling light of the bonfire. 

You were glad he came. Thought he might not with the way he clammed up when you invited him. It was a sizable gathering, and Clyde wasn’t really one for crowds—you’d picked that up quickly enough, teased him for it too, what with him being a bartender and all. But when Jimmy had gotten wind of the little campfire, start of fall get together you had planned, he promised you the Logans wouldn’t miss it for the world (as long as there were free drinks provided of course). 

And so the Logans did grace your crackling, leaf-covered backyard, Jimmy helping to stack wood up and get a good blaze going while you and Clyde mixed ungodly amounts of apple cider in a stockpot on the stove, filling your tiny kitchen with the scent of clove and cinnamon and spiced rum. It was really getting into the swing of autumn, so the days ended early now, leaving the party blanketed in soft, golden hour light, fading quickly into a hazy dusk. 

A while ago, Clyde had given you one of his coats, manifesting it miraculously from somewhere in his truck and tucking it over your shoulders. He said something about how he “wasn’t gonna have ya freezin’ out here” despite the raging fire not too far away. 

But you weren’t going to complain. The fabric smelled pleasantly like woodsmoke and earth and whatever delicious brand of cologne Clyde used. You most certainly cut a comical figure, drowning in the coat that fell past your thighs and swallowed your arms completely, but it was well worth it with the way Clyde’s pupils went wide and looked you up and down whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice. 

Everytime you caught his eye you felt your heart throb in every muscle, some type of strange, full body longing. The coat was nice—the yearning glances and soft, accidental brushes of your hands were all incredibly heart wrenching—but you were tired of the nameless feelings you shared. It was autumn afterall, the season of witchcraft. And names were powerful, names were magic and made things real. 

And you were lookin’ to make whatever it was between the two of you a reality. 

You spotted Clyde by the tailgate of his truck where you had set up the tumblers of warm, spiked cider. He set down the half-full, tin mug in his hands when you sauntered up, hands buried in the massive pockets of his coat. 

“Hey there darlin’,” —Christ, you loved when he called you that— “not too cold right?”

You smiled and shook your head. Behind you, the fire cracked and spit, casting shadows on Clyde’s painfully handsome face. The sight of him made you shiver. 

_Must be magic_. 

“Course not,” you replied softly. 

“I reckon ya look much better in that than me,” Clyde chuckled and caught the edge of your collar and rubbed it between his fingers. 

You let your head come down to rest on his hand, feeling the chill of it against your cheeks. He was softer than you expected. The look he gave you was not. It was wanting and not knowing and hard and meant something. 

He caught his pretty pink bottom lip between those crooked teeth—the ones you could write songs about—and stared down at the space where your skin touched. You needed to know what he tasted like, and the party was far enough away that no one would notice if you happened to slip away for just a minute, or a few more, or forever— 

So, for once, you didn’t glance away or turn your back or try and convince yourself he was looking some infinitely more beautiful thing behind you, that it wasn’t your soul he was starin’ into. And you reached up, feeling the way he hand engulfed your fingers, then your palm until it had disappeared completely, and you listened to the little hitch in his breath and the shake in his voice when he spoke. 

“Watcha doin’ there, sweetheart?” he asked, whispered really as if it was a precious secret. 

You shook your head again, eyes never leaving him, “Come with me?”

And Clyde let you pull him gently by the hand, all the way to the big oak on the edge of the yard. It’s branches were old and long and hid you from the firelight and the wandering gaze of partygoers. You turned and reached for his other hand, and he let you hold it, the cool metal stinging the skin of your wrist but you didn’t let go. Would never let go of Clyde now that you had him. 

He looked like he wanted to say something, looked like he wanted to say a million somethings, like there was so much stuck in his throat as you let him cage you against the tree trunk and felt the bark catch on your clothes. You brought both his hands to your waist, pressed them into you under his coat that slipped from your shoulders. 

Clyde groaned softly when his thumb brushed a patch of bare skin and you almost choked at the look on his face. Brows furrowed, teeth worrying his lip and so unbelieving. 

It hurt, that look, made your chest tight. 

Of all the looks Clyde Logan had given you, that was what did it. 

His lips were so soft, just like you knew they’d be, and you had to wrench your head all the way back to reach them but it was worth it. You could taste the rum and cinnamon still lingering in his mouth from the cider when you licked past his teeth. 

Clyde gasped into you, going still for a second, before his flesh and blood hand was snaking up to tangle in your hair and thumb at your wind-bitten cheek and his tongue was slipping into your mouth to taste you, finally taste you. 

The air was cold and made Clyde feel so much warmer, the spices tasting exponentially better from his mouth. You mapped every ridge of those lovely teeth and wrapped your arms tight around his neck, getting lost in the feeling of how solid and strong and real he was. 

It was breathless and lovely and _magic_. 

When you pulled away, Clyde dropping you back down from the tips of your toes, he was smiling down at you. This big, little kid with a lollipop grin that split his face and shone down on you brighter than the fire. 

And of all the looks Clyde Logan had given you, that one made your heart shake against your ribs and turned your center of gravity. 

That one changed everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all for reading! I'm soft for this mans, literally this is my first like just fluff fic cause I'm a coldhearted bastard but here it is. Come check me out on tumblr if you want more of my writing @star-killer-md!


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